"Bane? What happened?" She sat
up and glanced around. "Where are we?"
He shrugged, studying the fire.
"In a cave."
"How did we get here?"
He hesitated, unwilling to
relate the tale of his threat and the Goddess' subsequent
abduction. "I brought you. Dorel shot you, remember? I brought you
here, and spoke to your Goddess. She healed you."
"You spoke to the Lady?" Her
eyes widened. "What was she like? What did she say?"
Bane shrugged again. "She was a
goddess. She glowed. I asked her to heal you, and she did."
"You have received a rare
honour. The Lady appears rarely in visions, and then usually only
to an Elder Mother."
Bane nodded, looking ill at
ease, and Mirra studied him more closely. He seemed subdued, and
his eyes avoided hers. Lines of weariness bracketed his mouth and
gathered around his eyes, and his skin had a sickly pallor, worse
than before. As if uncomfortable under her scrutiny, he rose and
walked to the cave entrance to stare out at the bitter sky as
lightning played across the land. She noticed that he was not
wearing his cloak, and found that she was wrapped in it. He turned
to face her.
"I have a task to complete. I
will return you to the temple."
"You must be purged and healed,
Bane."
He hesitated, then inclined his
head. "Very well."
His agreement surprised her, but
she was too thrilled to question it. She rose, her legs a little
weak. Approaching him, she held out his cloak. He took it, and, to
her surprise, draped it around her shoulders, wrapping her in
it.
"You need it more than I. It is
cold."
Bane turned
away, and the thunder of the
demon steed's hooves outside heralded its arrival. She
followed him out to where Orris snorted fire and pawed the ground.
The icy wind stung her face, probing the cloak for a way in, and
she was glad of its warmth. She gazed around, shocked by the vista
that greeted her. The grass that covered the hillside was yellow
and brittle, and the wind had stripped it away in places, leaving
bare, dead soil. A stand of dying trees lashed naked branches in
the unnatural wind. In the few hours that had passed since the
accident with Dorel, the Overworld's demise had leapt
ahead.
She turned to Bane, who gazed at
the destruction. He glanced at her. "I will set it right."
Bane lifted
her onto the
demon steed,
then mounted behind her. She leant against him, and his arms slid
around her waist and held her, to her amazement. A gush of joy
washed through her, and she marvelled at the change in him,
wondering what had caused it.
Chapter
Five
The Purge
Ellese eyed Bane,
wondering what it was about him that appeared different, apart from
his pallor and the shadows under his eyes. He looked exhausted, and
stood close to Mirra. She noted the bloodstains on the girl's
robe.
"What happened?"
Mirra grinned, looking immensely
happy and just a little smug. "Bane will be purged."
"I meant, what happened to
you?"
"Oh!" Mirra looked down at
herself. "I am fine! Dorel tried to kill Bane, but I stopped her,
and then he saved me."
"Indeed."
Ellese's eyes flicked back to
the Demon Lord, who leant against the wall, studying the floor.
Mirra's abbreviated explanation did little to satisfy her
curiosity, but it could wait. The main thing was that Bane was
back, alive. His eyes were glacial when he raised them to meet
hers, so she assumed that he had had no great change of heart, but
was here at Mirra's insistence. Mirra had succeeded where Ellese
had failed. No matter. She nodded at the girl.
"Good. We have little time.
Come, Bane."
The Demon Lord stepped around
Mirra and followed Ellese along the short corridor to his cell.
There, she once again held out the loincloth. He took it, his face
hard.
Unable to stifle her curiosity,
she asked, "What happened?"
"None of your damned business,
old woman."
Bane's harsh tone startled
Ellese. It was unusually virulent, even for him. He had the look of
a man who had been to the gates of Hell, except he had been born
there, so such a journey would hardly constitute an ordeal for him.
Whatever he had been through, she deduced that it must have been
the most exquisite torture. Resolving not to ask again, she left
him to change, and waited outside.
While she stood in the hallway,
pondering Bane's foul mood, she realised what it was about him that
had changed. He looked older. The lines of his face had hardened
and deepened, and his youthful beauty had given way to the strongly
chiselled features of a mature man. She frowned. Mirra had skipped
into the abbey bursting with happiness, which made her suspect that
whatever had happened to Bane, the girl knew nothing about it. She
resigned herself to ignorance with a sigh.
Bane emerged wrapped in his
cloak, presumably because it was chilly, or perhaps for modesty's
sake. Ellese sympathised, but at least it would be warmer in the
chapel, where the fires had been burning all day.
Healers lined the chapel,
standing around the walls like so many white-robed statues, their
heads bowed, hands clasped in worship. Bane eyed them, reminded of
the priests at the Black Lord's temple. This time he was the
sacrifice, and something deep within him rebelled at the idea. He
stopped, and Ellese turned to him, raising iron-grey brows.
He nodded at the healers. "Is
their presence necessary?"
"I am afraid so. Their prayers
will be needed."
Bane walked on, his high-arched
feet padding on the smooth floor. Ellese detoured around the
eternal flame, moving behind the altar. When Bane followed her, he
found that the back of the altar was sloped, rising at an angle to
the floor, short chains with shackles at its top corners. It stood
around seven feet high, and anyone chained to it would be
spread-eagled against the cold white marble. He shot a suspicious
look at Ellese, who smiled with gentle assurance.
"It is not used for sacrifices.
At times we use it to heal the very sick, or to cleanse black
magicians, that is all."
He glanced around. "Where is
Mirra?"
Bane's use of the girl's name
surprised Ellese, but she hid it. "I thought it would be better if
she was not here. It will be painful for you, and, therefore, for
her."
For a moment his guard slipped,
and she glimpsed a look in his eyes that twisted her heart. The
lost, forlorn look she had not seen on him since he had been a
small boy in the Underworld. A look that spoke of agonies already
suffered, dreading more to come. His expression was shuttered again
in an instant, and he gave a harsh snort.
"It seems you will all have your
turn, first the Black Lord, then..." He looked away. "Now you."
Ellese wondered again what he
had been through while he had been away from the temple, but reined
her curiosity. "Do not worry, we did not save you to kill you
now."
"Mirra saved me, not you."
"I was the one who told her to
give you the dragonroot."
Bane glared at her. "She was the
one who persuaded me to take it."
Shrugging off
the cloak in an angry, impatient gesture, he let it fall. Ellese
could not help the way her eyes flicked over him, and his lip
curled. The Demon Lord's broad, muscled shoulders tapered to slim
hips and powerful legs. Alabaster skin lay taut over the lean,
sharp-edged muscles on his chest and hard ridges of his belly. Rib
ridges nestled amongst the long
muscles of his flanks, where pink scars were
visible.
Elder Mother made her inspection
leisurely, her eyes coming to rest on the rune scars on his chest,
arranged in a deep 'V' across his pectorals. One of them glowed
with a dull light, and she looked up to find him glaring, his sneer
gone. He did not like being sized up, she gathered. With a smile,
she gestured to the altar.
"You must put the first shackle
on of your own free will."
Bane moved to the sloping marble
slab and reached up to snap a shackle onto his left wrist. Using
the steps carved into the side of the altar, Ellese fastened the
other one, then descended, turned, and clapped her hands. The
healers started to hum in a soft, soothing note, almost
hypnotic.
Bane tried to relax, but found
it impossible. His eyes followed Ellese's every move. His limbs
still trembled a little after his ordeal at the hands of the
Goddess, and he strived to conceal his weakness. Ellese turned and
bent to pick something up, and when she faced him again, she held a
cup in which the white flame of the Lady burnt.
Bane recoiled, pressing back
against the cold slab, but the flame only flickered a little,
yearning towards him.
"We control it now," Ellese
assured him. "My sisters keep the white power in check. It will not
attack you. It will drive the evil from you, as it tried to do
before, only now it will be gentle."
Ellese approached him, holding
out the cup. The white flame danced on its tiny wick, fed by clear
oil. Ellese held it up to his chest, and it flared, flashing across
the gap to settle on his skin, mantling it, crawling over him with
a faint tingling sensation. At first it was almost pleasant, and he
wondered why she had said that it would be painful. Then the
burning began in his bones.
Starting as a mild discomfort,
it grew to an extremely unpleasant sensation, one from which there
was no escape. He shifted in the chains, frowning, trying to ease
the almost itchy feeling in his bones. It increased with each
minute, the itchiness giving way to a burning pain, until he was
forced to clench his jaw, sweat popping out on his brow. Ellese
watched him, making subtle gestures, as if to guide the white
fire.
Bane tried to dampen the fire
within himself, for the dark power surged through his blood,
longing to lash out at the pale flames that licked over him. Four
runes glowed, and he struggled to keep his power leashed.
"Relax, Bane, do not fight it.
Let it flow." Ellese looked up at him, pity in her eyes.
His anger flared, and he was
tempted to unleash the dark power, but held it back, glaring at
her. He closed his eyes as it thrummed through him, demanding exit,
burning his bones, igniting his blood. With every moment the pain
increased, and he ground his teeth, grimacing. Agony coursed
through him, his flesh aflame now.
"Let it out, Bane!" Ellese's
voice cracked with command, a thread of worry in it.
Bane's eyes
opened, and he snarled at her, unable to speak. Pain pounded in his
head, scorched his eyes and filled his lungs with fire. All his
years of training kept him holding it in, as his demonic teachers
had painfully drummed into him. You channel it, focus it on your
target, or concentrate it for Moving, rock or air walking. You
never just let it out. The first time the Black Lord had channelled
it into him, growling when he vomited, he had had no control over
it, and it had flowed from him back into the rocks and shadows. A
lash from Mealle's eyes had blister
ed his skin and made him scream.
Ellese's worried voice broke
into his memories. "Let it out, Bane. Relax your control, let it
flow from you."
Inwardly Bane smiled. She had no
idea how much power was stored within him. Enough to air walk for
fifteen minutes. Enough to raze this building to the ground, and
she wanted him to let it out. Stupid woman. This was pointless. He
should have just faced the Black Lord. The burning built within
him, growing, pounding, seeking exit. The white fire that flickered
over his skin drew it, and the dark power reacted to its presence,
pulled from his bones into his blood and flesh, where he held it
trapped. The agony made sweat trickle down his skin, and his teeth
ached from being ground together.
A sharp pain distracted him, and
his cheek smarted from Ellese's slap. She shouted, her voice muted
by his suffering. "Bane, let go! You must let it go!"
Numbly he thought about that,
closing his eyes. Let it go, let it pour out of him, consume the
chapel, the healers. Mirra was safe, only these vile women who
sought to hurt him would perish. The dark power goaded him, filling
him with its malevolence, urging him to end the pain, strike
back.
Ellese jumped back as the Demon
Lord's face twisted, and his eyes opened, filled with fury. Their
pure blue was swallowed up by inky darkness, and a prickle of fear
shot through her. The pain she shared with him was almost
unbearable now, and several nearby healers groaned as well.
The black
power burst from him, unfocu
ssed, raging out from his skin in a wave of evil. The white
fire met it, pushed outwards by it, and Ellese backed away in
alarm. The white fire mottled as it warred with the black, then
they melded, and she threw up her arms to shield her face as a
blaze of brilliant blue swallowed Bane. Fierce cyan light flooded
the chapel, and the healers fell silent, some crying out in fear,
shielding their eyes from the incandescence that surrounded
Bane.
Tongues of
blue fire lashed from him, arc
ed into the marble floor and smashed the silver
candleholders that stood on the shelves behind the altar. The
candles that lighted the chapel guttered and went out, and the air
crackled with a static power that made Ellese's hair bristle. A
lash of sapphire flame hit her and sent her sprawling - the cyan
streaked with black, almost too powerful to be transformed.
Sickness roiled in her gut as she struggled to her feet to stare at
the conduits of power that snaked across the chapel from the Demon
Lord.